THE BABY moon, a canoe, a silve… A ring of silver foxes, a mist of… One yellow star for a runner, and… O foxes, baby moon, runners, you a… Who squats, legs crossed and arms…

HIGH noon. White sun flashes on… asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr o… Women trapsing along in flimsy clo… play of sun-fire to their skin and… Inside the playhouse are movies fr…

Baby vamps, is it harder work than… Are the new soda parlors worse tha… Baby vamps, do you have jobs in th… In the winter at the skating rinks… Wherever figure eights are carved,…

(We can succeed only by concert. . . . The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion....

I cried over beautiful things know… The field of cornflower yellow is… the mother of the year, the taker… The northwest wind comes and the y… come in the first spit of snow on…

DID I see a crucifix in your eye… and nails and Roman soldiers and a dusk Golgotha? Did I see Mary, the changed woman… washing the feet of all men,

The mare Alix breaks the world’€™s trotting record one day. I see her heels flash down the dust of an Illinois race track on a summer afternoon. I see the timekeepers put their heads to...

She sits in the dust at the walls And makes cigars, Bending at the bench With fingers wage-anxious, Changing her sweat for the day’s p…

AMONG the bumble-bees in red-top… I read your heart in a book. And your mouth of blue pansy—I kn… And I have seen a woman with her… And the blue pansy mouth sang to t…

LAST night a January wind was ri… over our house and whistling a wol… eaves. I sat in a leather rocker and read… the Browning poem, Childe Roland…

THIRTY-TWO Greeks are dipping… Sloshing their bare feet in a cool… All one midsummer day ten hours th… stand in leather shoes shoveling g… Now they hold their toes and ankle…

THREE walls around the town of… They expected everything of those… Nobody in the town came out to kis… I knocked the walls down, killed t… Took away cattle and sheep, took a…

FLAT lands on the end of town where real estate men are crying new subdivisions, The sunsets pour blood and fire over you hundreds and hundreds of nights, flat lands—blood and fire of...

HERE in a cage the dollars come… To the click of a tube the dollars… And out of a mouth the dollars run… I finger the dollars, Paper and silver,

THEN came, Oscar, the time of th… And there was no land for a man, n… Unless guns sprang up And spoke their language. The how of running the world was a…